Spirits
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: Sequel to Visions. Flora is dead. Luke is missing. The Professor is alone, but can Flora's last words guide the Professor and his apprentice back together and to the centre of the mystery that no one ever even imagined could be behind her death? Or, will it all have been for nothing?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello, my lovelies!**

 **So, if you're here, this means you must have read my fic Visions. This, Spirits, is indeed the sequel for Visions and if you have not read Visions than I highly suggest you go and do so, cause otherwise this fic isn't exactly going to make much sense.**

 **I hope you enjoy this story! :)**

 **Disclaimer: Just as it was for Visions, this is a piece of fanwork and I do not claim ownership for Professor Layton, any games, storylines, plots or characters mentioned in this fic are not owned by me, but Level-5.**

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Spirits

Chapter One

Professor Layton was not unfamiliar with death. His best friend had died (no matter whether he came back or not, for many years the Professor believed him to be dead) when he was seventeen. His girlfriend had died just over ten years ago. And now, his daughter had died.

He felt empty as he sat at his desk in his home study. His top hat sat in front of him and he stared at it as if he didn't feel deserving of wearing such a chivalrous accessory. He'd let many down and it seemed that he never learnt. He'd let go of Randall, he didn't save from her Claire and now, he'd let a third person slip away. So much for third time lucky.

Sadly, he sighed and stood up. He was a logical and intelligent man and he knew really that he was not to blame. Radiation had killed its founder and would kill whoever came into contact with it. There had been no hope the day Flora was born in St Mystere, just as there had been no hope for her Mother and Father. It was devastating that Flora had died and the Professor couldn't think of a single thing that he would not do to change her perilous fate, but there was no such thing he- could do. He had been forced accept that fact twice with Claire's death. He wasn't going to let himself fall into any false hope again.

As the Professor made his way out of his home study and downstairs to make a pot of tea, he noted the darkness outside and saw that the time on the grandfather clock in the living room read half past eleven as he made his way through into the kitchen.

"Professor?"

The Professor, who was just about to walk through the kitchen doorway, jumped at the sound of the voice. He turned to see Luke sitting down on the sofa and was rather surprised. The Professor had been so deep in his own thoughts that he appeared to be lacking the observational trait that he normally carried and not noticed the teenage boy sitting there.

"Luke?" The Professor said. "What are you doing down here?"

"I-I couldn't sleep, Professor," Luke, who had gone up to bed two hours ago, replied.

"Hmm," The Professor nodded, before walking over and sitting beside his apprentice. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's just... It's hard to believe," Luke stuttered. "I just can't believe she's gone, Professor."

A week had passed since Flora's death and the Professor and Luke were still grief-stricken. Today had been her funeral and it had been the first funeral that Luke Triton had ever attended. He'd found the service unnerving and this of course made the day even more harder than it already was. The Professor and Luke's parents had both explained to him what the day would consist of, but Luke still found himself to be frustrated and upset.

What made it worse was that Flora's funeral had a rather big turn out. Normally, this would be considered a very good thing and family and close friends would feel more content knowing that their deceased was loved by many, but in this case Luke had felt that none of the people who attended knew Flora at all. Dean Delmona, of Gressenheller University had turned up, as had Rosa the cleaner, and several of the other Professors at the University who had met Flora when she came to meet the Professor at his office. The Head Mistress and another teacher at Flora's school had also attended, as had two students from Flora's class at school, whose names the Professor could vaguely remember Flora mention meeting up with on a couple of Saturday afternoons, but Luke had never heard of them- he thought he could remember them introducing themselves as Joanna and Tilly.

In addition, no one at the funeral seemed to be as upset as Luke did. Who were these people who dared to say that they would miss Flora and her "kindness, warmth and happiness" when they didn't shed a single tear? Luke's parents had told him the day before the funeral that today was the best day to cry over what had happened to Flora. And so he had. He'd noticed his Mother shed a tear and dab at her eyes at the handkerchief as she was buried, but that was it. The Professor hadn't cried, but Luke could understand that, because he knew that the Professor would never make a scene. However, Luke definitely had seen the sadness in his eyes and had known that the Professor had cried many times in the privacy of his own home. All the others who came to the funeral, he didn't believe were really sad; or at the very least, weren't as sad as they should have been.

The Professor understood this and it reminded him of the loss of his own best friend. The Professor was not always able to relate or understand Luke, however this time he could and he was very glad of that fact. He sat down beside him on the sofa.

"I know, Luke," the Professor said in a soft tone. "I find it hard to believe, too."

"I don't understand it, Professor," Luke shook his head as a few tears fell down his cheeks. The lump in his throat made his voice wobble. "H-how can she be here one day and not the next?"

It wasn't that Luke didn't understand death. He was a smart boy and older than his height made him appear to be. He understood the science. He understood how the brain stopped working. He understood how the heart stopped beating. He understood how all the organs stopped and the body stopped functioning. He understood how a person stopped hearing, seeing, feeling and thinking. What he didn't understand was how it had happened to Flora.

The Professor sighed, taking a moment to consider how to approach this.

"I feel the same way, Luke," The Professor began to say exactly what he wished someone had told him. "It feels rather unfair, doesn't it? It feels like someone's trying to punish you. I can promise you, though Luke, that that's not the case. You do know that, don't you?"

Luke let out a snivel, before he gave one nod of his head.

"Good," The Professor smiled. "Now, I know it's... Hard at the moment. It's hard to miss someone. It's especially hard to miss someone when you know that they're not coming back. And I'm sorry about how harsh death is Luke, because you truly don't deserve to have to deal with it. Flora didn't deserve what happened to her, either, and that can make it a bit harder for us to come to terms with it, but we will. We'll never forget her, of course. We'll think of her everyday. It's our job to honour Flora's memory. After all, we knew her best, didn't we?"

"Yes, Professor..." Luke said before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to dry the tears.

Noting the dark circles under Luke's eyes, the Professor could saw that Luke was tired. It was late after all and the Professor wouldn't have been surprised if he were to hear that Luke hadn't been sleeping well recently. Grief could do a lot to a person and he knew that all too well.

"Now, it's late," The Professor noted. "Why don't you go to bed? We can talk more in the morning. Some sleep will do you good."

"M'kay, Professor," Luke mumbled; his tiredness even clear in his voice. The young boy stood up and made his way to the bottom of the staircase, ready to go upstairs, to bed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my boy," the Professor bidded. "Oh, and Luke."

"Yes, Professor?" Luke said, turning by the doorway in between the living room and downstairs hallway.

"This will all get better with time. That, I can promise you," The Professor told him with a small smile.

Luke, for the first time in a week, smiled back.

"Thanks, Professor."

With that, Luke went upstairs to bed and the night moved along swiftly. The Professor did what he'd gone downstairs to do in the first place and made a pot of tea. He hadn't even finished drinking the cup when he fell asleep. He, too, needed rest. And so, the Professor of archaeology slept deeply, with his top hat still on his head and his tea going cold beside him, completely unaware of the sound of someone creeping in through the window on the floor above.

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 **AN: And that is the first chapter of Spirits complete! I hope you guys are enjoying it so far and are looking forward to more- let me know if you are in the review section, and if you're not, then still feel free to let me know! :)**

 **Nikki~**


	2. Chapter 2

Spirits

Chapter Two

Due to the current situation in the Layton household, the first seconds after Professor Layton awoke were, to him, the best few moments of the day. This was because that as the Professor yawned and stretched, he did not think about the grief. In fact, it was almost as if the Professor had forgotten. It was almost as if Flora had never have gotten sick and never have died. Then, as the Professor would sit up and reach for his top hat, he'd glance around and feel the sombre silence that lay upon the house, and he would remember. The few moments would be over and it would be time to carry on with the rest of the day.

The Professor frowned, realising that he had fallen asleep on the sofa. He must have been more tired than he had realised. Sighing loudly, he got up from the sofa and made his way upstairs and dressed into fresher clothes. As he did so, he wondered how much longer this mourning would last. He felt as if he couldn't go on like this much longer. He could remember feeling the same way when Claire died; inconsolable.

After changing into some new clothes, the Professor made his way back downstairs to make a pot of tea. Like last night, as he made his way through to the kitchen, he spied the time on the grandfather clock in the living room. It was half past eight. It wasn't often that the Professor woke up that late. Luke, perhaps, but not himself. On the other hand, the Professor normally would set an alarm to wake him up for work, but an alarm was currently unnecessary as he was of course currently on compassionate leave for the death of his adopted daughter. Additionally, the Professor had gone to sleep much later than he normally would and he had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, indicating that he did indeed to catch up on some sleep.

As he sat back down in the same spot on the sofa where he'd woken up about fifteen minutes ago with a cup of tea, the Professor assumed that Luke was still in bed. After all, now that the kettle had finished whistling as it had boiled, the house was indeed silent. The Professor found the lack of noise rather saddening and so turned on the radio, which wasn't something he normally did. Mind you, the radio hadn't been bought until Flora had moved in. She enjoyed listening to music on the radio in the car, and so had purchased a radio and record player for the house. The only times the radio had ever been playing in the house was when Flora had turned it on.

Professor Layton had merely been trying to distract himself, but he soon realised his mistake. The radio had been tuned in to one of the three radio stations that Flora listened to. It was a network that played current pop tunes. It wasn't particularly the Professor's cup of tea anyway, and so he felt no guilt in turning the dial and tuning into The Classics Station.

He listened along as he sat back with his cup of the tea. The music made him feel rather nostalgic, but he would've been thinking of been thinking back of recent memories eitherway, as there was something that the Professor could not seem to get off his mind. Flora's last words.

 _'Kerning Drive. Luke's there.'_

Layton thought past the painful memory of Flora's pale face breathing out those words. He knew that Flora had gone mad with delusions in her final weeks. She had become sick, had hallucinated, and it had lead to her believing Luke was in danger and that she could save him. She'd dreamt of Luke, clearly. From her words, the Professor assumed that she must have dreamt of Luke at a place named Kerning Drive, but funnily enough, the Professor did not know a place with such a name. He wondered if it was a street name in St Mystere. Yes, that seemed to be the most likely conclusion. It was a simple yet sad situation, and yet, the Professor could not get it off his mind.

He placed his empty cup of tea on the living room table and stood up, shaking his head. He had plenty of other things to think about. One, for example, was that perhaps it was about time to be waking Luke. It was approaching nine o'clock now, according to the Grandfather clock; Clark and Brenda would arrive soon. They'd stayed at a hotel for the past few nights, allowing the Professor and Luke to spend some time just together, in an attempt to try and help the grieving process. They had wondered if Luke and Hershel, the two who were closest to Flora, were alone together and were able to talk about their feelings (this wasn't just a service for Luke, but the Professor, too) without the worry of being overheard by others, would feel reassured and not alone. They did, however, continue to visit, as they were worried about their son and how he was coping with bereavement.

And so, Hershel went upstairs to Luke's room. It had always been Luke's room. Well, it had been since the he became his apprentice, that is. Once, it had been a spare room. A place for junk, old memories that the Professor preferred not think about, and the occasional artifact when his work and home office ran out of space. The Professor had not needed a spare room as he never had any visitors. Then, Luke became his apprentice and frequently stayed over. The junk room, then became Luke's room. Then, Luke left for France, and the room became a spare room. However, it never stopped being Luke's room.

The Professor glanced over at the door to Flora's room. He had yet to go through and clear the room of Flora's things. He was dreading doing so, hence why he hadn't yet completed the task. He wasn't ready. He'd promised himself he'd do it after the funeral. What excuse did he have now? He supposed he'd do it later. Those things worth keeping, he'd keep. Those things not worth keeping, he'd take to a charity shop. It was a simple enough task, but he was hesitant nevertheless.

He sighed and turned back to the door of Luke's room. He knocked.

No answer. Luke really was asleep.

He knocked again. Louder, this time.

Still no answer.

The Professor frowned and decided to open the door, just the tiniest bit, so as not to disturb Luke's privacy. Gently, he pushed down on the door handle and cracked open the door. He peeked through the two-inch gap made by the now ajar door and saw that Luke's bed was empty and unmade. He opened the door further, wondering if a bigger gap would reveal Luke on the other side of the room. But it didn't. The room was empty.

He must already be up and in the bathroom- no. The Professor had begun to turn back downstairs and in doing so, faced the bathroom door. Which was open. And empty. Luke was up and not in the bathroom. The Professor had spent all morning downstairs and Luke had definitely not been there. Besides, the downstairs floor was small and consisted of a bathroom by the doorway (which also had an open door, meaning that Luke couldn't be there either), a living room and a kitchen. Luke had been in neither. That meant that there was only one room left that Luke could be in: Flora's.

The Professor was reluctant to open the door to Flora's bedroom, but he did so. It would make sense for Luke to be there whilst grieving, he supposed. He was expecting to see Luke sitting on Flora's bed, or perhaps at her desk, deep in thought. Or perhaps, he'd even be asleep on Flora's bed, having gone in in the middle of the night, wanting to feel closer to Flora. But when the Professor opened the door, he did not see Luke. Only an empty room, which filled him with a deep sadness.

His eyes studied the seemingly lonely room. Flora's bed hadn't been made from where she last slept in it, just over a month ago. She'd been too sick to do so and the Professor was too busy worrying over her to do it for her. He stepped into the room and over to the window to open the curtain. He thought that perhaps it would help improve the lifeless atmosphere in the room.

After doing so, the Professor turned and stood with his hands against the window sill. It had always been a simple room, as despite her wealthy childhood, Flora had not at all been a materialistic person. White walls; linen sheets; a desk for school work; a small bookcase. Flora hadn't needed anything else. The Professor looked towards her desk, noting how tidy and organised it was in comparison to his in his office. Books were stacked and all folders were put back into their place against the wall. It made the white envelope sitting by itself, in the middle of the desk, rather obvious to spot.

Curiously, the Professor picked up the envelope and he was surprised to see that the addressee was himself.

 _Professor H. Layton_

He was about to open the letter when there was a knock at the door. Brenda and Clark had arrived.

Putting the letter into his blazer pocket, the Professor made his way downstairs and opened the door.

"Morning, Hershel," Clark greeted as the Professor opened the door and gestured for the Triton's to enter.

"Morning, Clark. Brenda," The Professor replied and nodded at Brenda, greeting her also.

"Good morning. How's Luke?" Brenda replied. She was a Mother and Luke would always be her first priority.

"He's-" The Professor began, before he remembered that he had yet to see Luke that morning. He paused fo a second as he wondered what to say. He was rather guilt-ridden that he had forgotten about his search for his apprentice, even if it was brief and good reason for it. The Professor wasn't exactly sure where Luke was, however he was certain that Luke was not in the house. He must have gone for a walk... Oh. The Professor had just looked down as he quickly collected the information of Luke's whereabouts all together in his head and in doing so, had seen Luke's buckled, black shoes down by the front door.

"Hershel?" Clark frowned and said loudly to try and catch his friend's attention. The Professor had paused and was staring down at the floor, his expression slowly changing into one of confusion.

"Sorry," The Professor quickly apologised and looked back up at the couple. "I was just thinking that I hadn't seen Luke this morning and he's not upstairs. I thought that maybe he'd gone for a walk to clear his head, like he's done in the past. But... His shoes are here. He must be in the garden."

"Oh, I'll go and see him," Brenda offered immediately and then made her way towards the house's back door before either gentlemen could stop her.

"Mother's concern," Clark explained as Brenda hurried towards the garden. "She's worried about how he's coping with mourning. One minute she's worried she's giving him too much space and the next she insists that she's not giving him enough. This isn't a position we've been in before with Luke and-"

"It's all right, Clark," The Professor nodded. "It's perfectly understandable. Grief is never a good thing to go through for anyone. The first loss a person suffers, though, is not worse than the rest, but is a new and horrible experience."

The Professor could remember Randall. At least Luke did not feel that he was to blame for Flora's passing. Even so, the Professor could imagine that even without the guilt, his grief over Randall's passing would still have been unbearable and he would still have been inconsolable.

"Indeed," Clark nodded solemnly and placed his hands in his trouser pockets. "How are you coping with Flora's... Passing?"

In Layton's experience, no one could ever muster the word 'death'.

"I-" The Professor thought for a second before replying. "I'm taking each day as it comes."

"He's not there!" Brenda came bursting into the hallway back from the garden. She'd ran and had caught herself on the doorway to stop herself from running into the two men. She was out of breath. She was worried, concerned and scared. The Professor quickly picked up on that.

"What?" The Professor frowned. There was nowhere else he could be, if he was not upstairs or in the garden.

"I'll check upstairs again," Brenda said, before running up the stairs.

The Professor turned to Clark and wasn't sure if he imagined seeing his friend roll his eyes or not. The image reminded him of when Luke was born and how worried Brenda always was. She wouldn't even leave him alone when he was asleep, out of fear of him stopping breathing. Clark had found this to be mad and had complained about it to Hershel. At the time, it had made Hershel glad that Claire had no immediate plans of parenthood, but now, he was regretting never taking up the chance when he could have. Especially more so now that Flora, his final chance of a family, had slipped through his fingers.

Clark and the Professor could hear Brenda calling for Luke on the next floor. In a matter of seconds it seemed, Brenda was hurrying back down the stairs.

"He's not there either!" Brenda exclaimed in a panic. "I checked all the rooms. Yours, Luke's, Flora's and the bathroom. Where could he be?"

The Professor was speechless. He was thinking back to Flora's death. He was thinking back to what she said in the hospital. He was thinking about what he said when he turned down her idea about what was plaguing her. He was slowly putting the puzzle pieces together of a mystery that he had never expected to come across.

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 **AN: And that was chapter two, which came after a very long wait which I apologise for massively! I went off to see my dad and his family for a couple of weeks and there was a leak so me and my brothers had to move into a hotel where we had to pay for internet, which we couldn't do. I couldn't write ready for an upload either as I find it super difficult to write when others are around. (I think I've mentioned that before).**

 **I'm moving into my new apartment on Thursday and am hoping to update all my fics before then, however I'm making sure I get all my stuff ready and packed, which will take up a lot of time. Hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently over the course of the year this time round though!**

 **By the way, thank you so much for the 8 reviews last chapter, guys! Made me very happy and some more reviews for this chapter would make me very happy indeed!**

 **Nikki~**


	3. Chapter 3

Spirits

Chapter Three

Over the past hour in the Layton household, tensions had grown to an exceedingly high level. Brenda was frantically pacing, with stress induced creases in her forehead and her fists clenched. Clark appeared to be slightly calmer, however he was, on the inside, just as panicked as his wife. He hadn't stopped tapping his fingers on the window-sil for several minutes. Hershel, on the other hand, was doing his best not to let worry consume him. After all, he knew that worry never did anything to improve the situation and that all it did was make the situation harder. Worrying was a distraction. If he didn't worry, he could focus and think; where could Luke have gone?

"We've searched everywhere!" Brenda exclaimed, flapping her arms about like a protective mother bird.

Hershel nodded and in doing so, tipped his head down in thought. Brenda was right in a figurative sense. They had searched everywhere that Luke could be. After the house had been searched several times, top to bottom and by each of them at least thrice, they had began to search areas outside the house. This included Flora's grave; the park where Luke enjoyed to walk and had occasionally done so with Flora; the local shops... Even Gressenheller University. But despite their efforts, he was nowhere to be seen.

"What about- sorry, I've forgotten the name but- the village where Flora lived before she came to London..." Clark suggested. "Perhaps he's gone there? Hershel, you mentioned that you should write to the village and tell them of Flora's passing. Perhaps Luke decided to go and tell them all in person?"

"It certainly sounds like something he'd do..." Brenda agreed.

"No..." Hershel shook his head. "The village is completely isolated. The only way is car, there's no public transport that goes there. It's miles from here. Not even someone who's being controlled by grief would attempt to make such a journey by foot."

"Then I have no more ideas," Clark sighed.

"We need to call the police," Brenda insisted, taking a break from her incessant pacing and pausing to face the two men. "We should have an hour ago."

The Professor nodded, not being able to help think that contacting the police was an over exaggeration. In the least boastful and most modestly gentleman way possible, he thought that as someone who was called in as a last resort to Scotland Yard's toughest cases, it was rather silly for him to be requesting Scotland Yard's help. In addition, Hershel knew Luke and knew that he had merely gone on a walk to help clear his head. He was just frustrated with himself for not being able to figure out where it was that Luke could possibly be.

Then again, maybe it was best that the authorities were informed. Luke was, after all, a mere fourteen year old. On top of that, his mindset was currently not in the right place. Grief was malicious and could make people do the most thoughtless of things. Perhaps an extra few pairs of eyes were necessary...

-X-X-X-

It was one of the those mornings in Scotland Yard. It was loud, hot and completely cramped. Half of Inspector Chelmey's division had not left the office in over twenty four hours and the other half had been out undercover all night and had only just recently gotten back, ready to report their findings and possible leads to Chelmey.

Inspector Chelmey, on the other hand, had immediately dismissed them all when the eleven police constables and one detective sergeant had stumbled into his office, with the statement "If you have nothing worthwhile to report to me, get out now, fill out a report and hand it to Constable Barton to go over". The twelve police officers looked at each other, shrugged and then made their way out of the office to follow the Inspector's orders.

Chelmey was grateful that whoever it was last out shut the door behind them. If only they had the same intuition when it came to solving crimes. The Inspector sighed and shook his head. It wasn't their fault. If anything, it was his. After all, _he_ was the Inspector of the division. _He_ was the chief of the team. _He_ was the one who gave the orders. If after two weeks, no single officer had come up with a lead- let alone the simplest bit of information- than it was him who was to blame.

The Inspector looked down at the file in front of him and scammed through it for the hundredth time that hour. By this point, even he knew how pointless he was being. There were many other things he could do which would help more than reading through a single file. The Inspector knew that. What he didn't know was what it was that he could be doing. He was drawing blanks. He wasn't sure if his reputation as an absolutely brilliant police officer was deceiving him, or if this case really did have no leads, and there was a new criminal mastermind in town.

By reading the folder of all the information gathered so far multiple times, Chelmey was hoping that he would stumble across some new information, link two statements together or maybe even simply get some inspiration... Anything. He just needed ideas of where to go next with solving this crime.

Equipment theft. It was... Random, to say the least. The most ridiculous crime ever, to say the least, and it was not one that Chelmey would have ever expected to cause such chaos in his department. Murder? Yes. Kidnapping or hostages? Yes. But something as simple as theft equipment... He couldn't quite believe it, but then again, he could not quite believe how the crime could have happened.

Top secret scientific experimental equipment had disappeared over the course of a signal night from one of London's biggest and most secure research facilities. There was not a trace of any sign of a break in. CCTV had gone down an hour before the suspected break in and the electronic doors, that require a key card to pass through, showed no record of being opened at all during the night. So, how on earth, had the equipment been taken. Chelmey had absolutely no idea, and it appeared that neither did his detective inspector, his detective sergeant, his detective constable, or any of his police constables.

The crime was madly impossible and the Inspector was out of his depth. This was not surprising, even though Inspector Chelmey was perceived by many- including himself- as a great detective. After all, this case was one that normally the secret service would take on. However, this could not be done, as it was highly possible that the secret service were in fact behind the missing equipment. In fact, Chelmey was certain of it. There motive, however, Chelmey didn't quite know. Yet.

There was a knock on his office door.

"What is it?" Chelmey grumbled, as Police Constable Barton stepped into his office.

"Uhh... Morning Inspector!" Barton stuttered, feeling his body shake out of both fear from the Inspector's response (he certainly could be unnecessarily aggressive in times like these) and out of energy; he had downed an awful lot of coffee that morning, for Barton had, like most officers, not slept in a day.

"What is it, Barton?" The Inspector repeated, looking up at the police constable.

"It's- uhm- Professor Layton. He's on the phone, Inspector," Barton sheepishly infored his superior.

"What?!" Chelmey exclaimed in a growling tone. "I thought I told you that we were not to turn to outsiders for advise on this case, Barton! It is the most important case this division has ever had the privilege to work on- and it is classified! We are to work on it independently!"

"Y-yes, Sir... I remember the briefing, but..." Barton began.

"No buts, Barton! No matter how much we struggle on this investigation- not that we are struggling of course- but..." Chelmey paused and loudly exhaled. "Just tell Layton that you were mistaken and hang up the phone."

"I-I didn't call him, Inspector," Barton tried to explain, terrified that at any minute the Inspector would have another angry outburst. "He called. He wants to report a missing person's case, sir."

"Well, that's- that's not our division, Barton! Why on earth is he on the phone to us?" Chelmey furiously, and rhetorically of course, questioned. "He should be speaking to DCI Hunt's department if it's a missing persons! Besides, why can't Layton solve-"

"Well, actually, Inspector, sir, Professor Layton asked for us personally and so-"

"Hush, Barton!" Chelmey suddenly interrupted and the office filled with silence. The only noise was the clutter of the police officers outside, as they scurried, pushed papers and chatted about what Chelmey really hoped was the case. "We must take on this case, Barton."

"B-but you said..."

"Forget what I said," Inspector Chelmey said, snatching his coat from the back of his chair. "I have a plan. Come on. We're off to see Professor Layton."

Barton opened his mouth to say something, but he kept silent. The Inspector budged past Barton and left his office. For he did have a plan and he was close to certain that it would work. He forgot his requirement to keep the case classified from all civilians and consultants. For if Layton had called on the Inspector's help, he needed it. It appeared that both men needed help on a case. Now if perhaps there was a way they could switch, or at the very least, help each other...? Then surely London would be safe once again.

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 **AN: Happy Tuesday!**

 **As you guys may know, Tuesday is Spirits day (basically the day I update this fic. Not an international holiday, but still... Tuesday!)! So here is your weekly dose of Spirits.**

 **I will see you another day this week if you read any of my other fics, and if not, I'll see you next Tuesday!**

 **Have a great week peeps! Oh, and leave a review? Pretty please?**

 **Nikki~**


	4. Chapter 4

Spirits

Chapter Four

Luke's first sight upon a groggy awakening was a blurred one. A grey foggy cloud that slowly smoothed out into the image of a damp and dirty ceiling. He was looking up. He stirred- a growling coming from his throat- and blinked. His muscles and limbs ached, but he managed to lift his neck and glance around.

Despite his daze, it didn't take him long to take in his surroundings. He was in what first appeared to be a small room, but on further examination was indeed a very big room, which was filled with multiple large machines, with buttons, switches and monitors, and that made strange beeping and whistling noises every moment or so. Turning to look back above him, Luke could see a big spheric metallic ball, with a face-shaped dent on the bottom side.

Luke shuffled in an attempt to adjust his position. He could feel his thighs begin to cramp. There was a soft, spongey cushion beneath him and he realised he was on a chair or mattress. His limbs, however, were tense, tight and heavy and he couldn't seem to move them far. He looked down and saw that both arms and legs were tied with cuffs. His legs were being held down flat and his arms were stuck by his sides. He gasped in horror.

"Stay calm," a voice from behind him said. It was a strong and distinctive voice and Luke definitely recognised it from somewhere... He tried to move his head to see who the voice belonged to, but his restricted limbs prevented him from doing so.

"Who-who's there?!" Luke demanded to know. His breathing rapidly increasing as he began to panic.

"You're recovering from a sedative. The effect is wearing off. It's easier and safer if you stay calm for the next few moments," The voice said.

Realising he had no choice but to trust what the voice was saying, Luke rested his head back down.

"Who are you?" Luke asked again, his voice loud, but less panicked than before. His eyes darted side to side as he heard footsteps approach him from behind.

"Unsurprisingly, the sedative has caused short-term memory loss," the voice said, as the owner walked around Luke's left side and moved to stand in front of him, so that he was clearly in Luke's line of vision. "You saw and recognised me last night. What's your last memory?"

"I-it's you!" Luke gasped, staring wide-eyed at the man standing in front of him. His hair was longer and scruffier and a thick amount of stubble had grown on the man's chin, since they last met, but Luke undoubtedly knew who the man was. "Dimitri Allen!"

"Yes," The scientist nodded once. "You said the same thing last night. Now, your last memory if you please. It could be important."

"I-err..." Luke stuttered, dumbfounded. He unsure what to think and uncertain on what he was thinking. He had many questions, all of which were understandable. Why was he here? Where was he? Why was Dimitri, of all people, here with him? Why was all the machinery around him and what would it do? The questions fuzzed around his brain like electricity, but in the end, Luke answered the question that had been asked to him. "Umm... Last night. Going to bed..."

Dimitri was silent for half a second.

"Good," he said and then made his way to the back of the room, disappearing from Luke's sights. There was the sound of a chair being scraped against the ground. Twice. Luke presumed Dimitri was sitting on a seat.

Luke's head felt heavy against the uncomfortably spongey material. His breaths were deep and his lungs spasmed; he felt as if he'd just sprinted a great distance, he was in such a panicked state. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know he'd gotten to wherever he was. He didn't know why he was wherever he was. He didn't know why Dimitri was here and he didn't know what Dimitri was doing.

"Wha- whats g-" Luke rasped in between hyperventilated breaths in an attempt to get Dimitri to explain the situation.

"Luke, if you don't calm down I'll have to sedate you again," The scientist's voice from behind him said. "Think about what the Professor would say. You must be rational and calm in a situation like this."

It took time but eventually Luke's laboured breaths subsided into a stable, slower and more regular rhythm and he relaxed. His now lighter and less tense limbs made the chains crash with each other as they limply dropped against the mattress. Then, Dimitri returned to where he had stood before, in Luke's line of restricted vision. Calmly, he sat himself down on a stool.

"Now, I'm assuming you have several questions," Dimitri said. "I will answer as many of them as I possibly can. Please, ask away."

Luke paused in shock of Allen's civil behaviour when Luke was trapped next to him by cuffs on all four limbs. But he thought about what the Profesor would do. Remain rational and calm. Dimitri was presenting him with the opportunity to ask questions and it seemed that the best course of action would be to ask some questions and get some answers. Understandably, Luke had many questions. He picked one at random to ask first.

"Why did you sedate me?"

"Last night?" Dimitri replied. "Because you were calling for help and I worried you would alert someone."

"Why did you say you'd sedate me again?"

"Because you were panicking."

"So?"

"I didn't want you to be panicking."

"Why not?"

"Panic and fear makes people make irrational decisions."

"And you don't want me to be scared or panicked?"

"I do not."

"So why I am chained?"

Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but didn't say a word. He looked towards the otherside of the room, then to the door and then to the cuffs chained to Luke's wrists and ankles. Then, he looked up.

"I can't have you escaping before you hear me out," Dimitri replied. "I need you to listen to me and understand what I have to say. Then, you need to make a decision, which you need to be in a rational state of mind for. Hence, why I don't want you to be panicking. Once, you've made your decision, you can either stay or leave."

"You... You'll let me leave?"

"Not until you've heard what I have to say."

"Well... Then-then say whatever it is!" Luke said in a raised voice. His mind was struggling to interpret all of this and he was more desperate to leave and get out of there more so than he was to understand anymore of what was going on. To put it simply, he didn't care. He just wanted to be back home. "I just want to get out of here!"

"I'm not so sure that you will, Luke," Dimitri said.

"Why would I want to stay with you?!" Luke exclaimed. "You-you've kidnapped me!"

Dimitri sighed.

"I was very sorry to hear about the passing of Flora Reinhold. She was a good friend of yours, was she not?" Dimitri said, with a knowing expression.

Luke blinked.

"How do you know about Flora?" Luke asked, his words slow as they rolled off his tongue in shock and disbelief.

There was a strange flicker in Dimitri's eye and the scientist stood up. He turned to face the wall and walked towards it, but the image of the flicker in the man's eye was stuck in Luke's mind. Was... Was it shame?

"Miss Flora Reinhold was a suitable candidate for a scientific experiment that I have been working on for almost as long as the time machine," Dimitri said, facing the wall, refusing to look in Luke's direction. "I was very hopeful with this experiment. Even more so hopeful with my plan of Future London. It seemed more definite and accurate, but due to the electromagnetic radiation in Future London, which was caused by the attempted construction of a working time machine, the experiment did not do what it was supposed to do. Instead, it did something else."

"It... Killed her?"

"It did something much more extraordinary than that, but in the end, that extraodrinary thing did indeed cause her to perish."

"So you... _you_ killed Flora?" Luke questioned, his face seeming to drop in an unsettling and overwhelming mix of shock and anger.

Dimitri's face did something of a similar nature. He swallowed and his eyes, which were still carefully staying away from meeting Luke's, stared towards the ugly, grey floor. Luke had thought he'd seen shame in Dimitri Allen's face and now he thought he'd seen guilt, but it was short lived.

The Scientist looked up. His eyes darted from side to side and from up to down, still in refusal to make contact, but occasionally glimpsing for a second in Luke's direction. There was the beginnings of a smirk playing on his features, but he seemed to remain solemn behind the eyes and deep inside.

"Of course that's what you choose to focus on," Dimitri said and pursed his lips.

"What else am I supposed to focus on? She's only been gone a week..."

"The extraordinary thing," Dimitri replied. "That is what you are supposed to focus on. That is what you are supposed to ask about."

Luke paused in hesitation. Momentarily, he forgot that he was cuffed to a mattress and tried to sit up and was quickly pulled back down by the weight of the chains.

"What is the extraodrinary thing?" Luke asked in exasperation, which was caused by both his failed attempt to sit up and the conversation which he was finding slightly disrespectful towards the late Flora.

"We'll come back to that, Luke," Dimitri said. "I can't tell you anything until I have your full co-operation and know that I can trust you."

"B-but you killed Flora!" Luke exclaimed, beginning to grow restless again. "How could I ever trust you?"

"Because I unintentionally killed Flora," Dimitri answered with a seemingly honest tone. "And if you help me, you could be able to talk to Flora again."

Luke paused and his eyes grew wide in shock.

"I could... I could see Flora again..."

"No, you could _talk_ to her again," Dimitri replied.

"I don't understand..."

"Perhaps I should explain in more detail," The Scientist said. "You see, the experiment I used Flora for killed her. Like I said, this was unintentional. The experiment should have caused her no physical pain whatsoever. However, due to the experiments occurring in Future London, which was where she was unknowingly exposed to the experiment, the experiment didn't work. The two experiments almost mixed together and... And Flora began to see visions of your future, Luke."

"She...?"

"She saw visions of your future," Dimitri replied. "Never more than a week before they occurred, but they were accurate scenes of your future, which Flora witnessed like dreams. I don't know what she saw. She never told me. She refused to in fact-"

"You spoke to Flora?" Luke suddenly interrupted.

"Yes, but we're getting side-tracked," Dimitri said in dismissal. "Now, as I just said, Flora saw visions of your future. Your future only. No one else's. Her visions were all centered around you."

"A-and is that why I'm here now?" Luke asked. He was afraid of the answer as his mind couldn't come up with any ideas as to why he was here now, shackled to a bed in a middle of a science laboratory!

"Because the experiment in a way... has worked," Dimitri said with a nod, before his confident tone dropped. "I think."

Luke felt a stir in his stomach. He'd felt many since he'd awoke, but this one was by far the strongest. He could tell by the look on Dimitri's face- a strange, stiff and empty gaze that looked as if had seen too much- that he was not in a safe place and whatever was going to happen, was going to be bad.

"You see, Luke, my experiment, the one I included Flora Reinhold in... I was trying to connect the world of the living to the world of the dead," Dimitri nodded. "It's a rather complicated science and some may argue that you can not even call it science. In theory, it's possible and so I decided to give it a go."

"You were... You were trying to bring Claire back?" Luke said as the realisation seemingly hit him in the face.

There was a pause as Luke awaited a response. Though, of course, his answer was correct.

"I was trying to find a way for me to contact her. Technically, if I go about it this way, I'm not bring anybody back, I'm instead talking to them," Dimitri paused. "I say 'them'. I mean 'her'. The connection is a wobbly and dangerous one. It can only last between two people. If I get this to work with Flora- if I get this to connect you and Flora in a world that's beyond this one- then perhaps I can form a bond between Claire and myself, too."

"This is... This is all too much," Luke sighed and looked away, though with his cuffed limbs, there were limited places he could avert his line of sight towards.

"I know and I apologise for that. And for your friend. I know Flora meant a lot to you."

Luke turned back to face him, sharply; his neck almost clicked.

"You know nothing about Flora and me!" Luke exclaimed in defense.

"Actually... I do," Dimitri said. "The bond between here and the world of the dead can only exist once between each person, because the bond attached itself to whoever felt the strongest love or compassion towards the said person. As an orphan, Flora was the perfect candidate for the experiment. That was why it had to be her."

"So? That doesn't prove anything!"

"It does," Dimitri shook his head. "You see, although the experiment was supposed to give Flora the ability to talk to her dead Mother or Father, it instead gave her the power to see visions of the future, due to the mixed radiation from this experiment and the time machine construction. The result of me exposing Flora to so much unstable atoms gave a surprising result and a very unexpected one. After all, the two outcomes are indeed very different, but there is one similarity between what was supposed to happen and what did happen. One person. The bond can only form between one person once. And her one person was the one person all her visions of the future her centered around. You, Luke. The bond between Flora and you was the strongest bond she ever formed and perhaps the strongest you will ever form."

Luke was not sure how to feel. He did however understand.

"You want me to take part in the experiment and connect to Flora?" Luke asked, although he did of course, once again, know the answer. "I'll be able to talk to Flora again?"

"Hopefully, yes," Dimitri nodded. "There are indeed risks, which is why I'm giving you the option to say no. After what happened to Flora, I don't think I can force an experiment in any way, shape or form a second time, so-"

Luke had already made up his mind.

"I'll do it."

* * *

 **AN: So really this update should pop up on a Tuesday so I should wait until tomorrow to share it with you all, but it has been a while since I've updated this fic so maybe it's just a very late Tuesday update...**

 **So, yeah, apologies for my lack of updates. Year two of university has been even more hectic with the last and my bed has broken due to poor craftsmanship and I now sleep on a mattress on the floor. I have a longer commute to uni from my flat now, too, so even less time to come home and work on fics AND I have so many other things to do at the moment! Work for my degree and my job are sooo tiring and time-consuming.**

 **Anyway, please forgive my rambles and a review would mean a lot (especially because there were none on the last chapter)!  
**

 **Nikki~**


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